


Like Lovers Do

by lyn452



Series: Jonerys Valentine Event 2020 - Leather and Lace Edition [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Assassination Attempt(s), Attempted Murder, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Masturbation, Out of Character, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:55:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22727260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyn452/pseuds/lyn452
Summary: Leather | Enemies to Lovers - Flirting doesn’t usually involve assassination attempts, but King Jon and Queen Daenerys aren’t exactly normal people.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: Jonerys Valentine Event 2020 - Leather and Lace Edition [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1634287
Comments: 24
Kudos: 206





	Like Lovers Do

**Author's Note:**

> (Title based on Hey Violet song)

The castle could be considered spartan and cold. The furs everyone wore didn’t exactly dispel the image of the frozen wasteland everyone thought their kingdom was. Jon didn’t really like the image his homeland created, but if it meant fewer people to look after then he was fine with it.

What he could do without was the northern lords and his sister’s non-stop scheming. They looked to outwit enemies, each other, and, most of all, him. Jon knew his bastard status would always cause his lords and sister to side-eye him. He knew it didn’t matter how many battles and wars he won, he would never be completely trusted on the throne. 

Part of him wanted to just let his half-sister have the damned crown she coveted so much, but a larger part of him knew he needed to do this. Sansa would rule smartly but not wisely. She could play the political game as well as anyone he knew, but she never seemed to understand what really mattered. She never seemed to know where to draw the line of decency and just let some stuff go for the greater good.

That was how she got them all involved in this mess with the southern kingdom and its Dragon Queen. It wasn’t war. Not yet. But it wasn’t friendly relations between allies either. Jon wasn’t quite the fool people sometimes thought he was. He knew that the southern kingdom was looking to gain what it saw as its property back. Jon’s father, Ned Stark, had broken away from the south when the Mad King Aerys had cruelly murdered his father and brother. 

Daenerys wasn’t like her father, but she couldn’t be trusted either. She had more power than her father ever did, having given birth to three live dragons, but she seemed content to stay where she was, enjoying home more than conquering. Jon knew that didn’t mean she didn’t eye the northern kingdom as territory that belonged to her that she merely had to win back. He knew Sansa’s fears of the Dragon Queen weren’t completely unfounded. 

But while Sansa understood court intrigue better than Jon, she knew nothing of battlefields. She’d never seen a man holding in his guts as he cried for his mother; she’d didn’t know the smell of burning flesh; and she’d never tasted another man’s blood. Jon did. The Dragon Queen did. It was easy to call for war when you didn’t know the true cost. When you would never be asked to pay it.

Jon would do everything in his power to prevent such an outcome. The northern kingdom wasn’t in a position to fight their southern neighbors. They would fight hard and the landscape and harsh weather would probably do more damage to the queen’s forces than his men, but Jon didn’t want to deal with the queen’s dragons. No sane person did. Sansa thought they were bullshit, more rumor and legend than reality. Jon wasn’t so sure. She overpowered centuries of slave trading in a year. She did something to make that happen and brought the masters to heel.

The northern kingdom had banned slavery even when they’d been part of the southern kingdom. People may call northerners barbarians, but Jon thought any person who owned another person, thought such a thing was their right, was the kind of scum who shouldn’t be allowed to call anyone else anything. He’d remembered hearing the tales of Daenerys’ liberation when his brother Robb ruled the kingdom. Both men had been impressed, but it made Robb hesitate in seeking a marriage alliance with the “soft, delicate princess turned queen” his advisors had told him Daenerys was. Jon wished Robb had married her. She might have saved him from his own allies.

Though Jon had paid the Boltons back. He’d beaten Ramsay’s face to a pulp and then ordered the mess of a head to be put on a spike outside of his castle. It had given him a dark pleasure to watch that man’s face rot. 

Jon walked through the halls of his castle, his steps echoing against the stone floor. He was tired after a long day. Every day seemed to be a long day. He’d gotten his crown by fighting for it, but he hadn’t realized until after the battle that the fight was never ending. He wouldn't stop until he died.

It often made him question if he should have just yielded the damn thing to his sister. She clearly wanted it. But he wasn’t sure it was the right move and being king taught him that it was better to fix his mistakes then hope for the best with other people’s. At least he had the authority to try to do what was best for his people. As a bastard, he would go back to having nothing.

He opened the heavy door to his personal chambers. His father had made being a king look so easy, so simple. Ned Stark had always seemed to know the right answer, the right course of action. Jon would forever curse that stray arrow at a visit to the Wall that had ended the reign of a great king far too early. That had made all of them grow up too fast and left the kingdom exposed when it could little afford it. Jon often thought if the Targaryens hadn’t been dealing with their own succession problems, they might have used the turmoil of Ned Stark’s to take back the northern kingdom.

He kicked off his boots. The current dragon queen had been even younger than Robb when she ascended to the throne. Her brother’s stupidity got him killed and she took the crown barely past her first bleeding. No one had thought she would last long. The southern kingdom’s court was said to make the northern one look like a bunch of puppies. She had been a small girl surrounded by vipers.

Yet, she’d survived. She’d even thrived, reshaping her kingdom to fit her image of what was right. Jon had never properly met the queen, only talked with her over seeing stones, but he would by lying if he said he didn’t admire her. And Jon wasn’t in the habit of lying.

He sat on his bed, sighing deeply. He also had to admit she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Jon had seen plenty of beautiful women, but Daenerys was nearly in a category of her own. He’d always thought the flowery language that described the ethereal, other-worldly looks of Targaryens was just flattery. It wasn’t until he first looked upon Daenerys Targaryen he realized that those poets and storytellers had merely been attempting to describe the indescribable.

Robb had warned him about it, even if neither had realized it at the time. “Jon, I damn near forgot my own name, looking at her.” Jon had laughed at his brother then, but when he had the same thing happen to him at his first look, he understood why the queen had made his brother so nervous. The queen’s power, dragons or not, laid in the fact that she could make otherwise smart men into fools with just a look. 

Not that Jon would ever admit that outloud. Sansa already didn’t trust him. He didn’t need to give her more reasons not to. He closed his eyes and let his head drop into his hands, rubbing his face as his elbows were propped up on his knees. 

He was nearly too distracted to notice the movement behind his curtain. But nearly wasn’t enough. A change in the air, a slight sound to his right behind him was enough to key Jon into the fact he wasn’t alone in his room. He didn’t change his position or behavior, not wanting to alert his attacker that they had lost their element of surprise. 

Jon was never unarmed, not after a close call a few months ago. If it hadn’t been for Ser Davos looking for him, he would have bled out in the snow, courtesy of his “brothers,” who’d been pledged to serve the king. They saw his ascension to the throne as a violation of their vows and reacted violently. Jon had known a group had been upset with his decision, but he had foolishly ignored it. He had trusted the men he ruled. It had been a harsh lesson to learn, but one he’d learned well. 

When the assassin finally made his move, Jon was ready. He went for the knife concealed in his boot rather than the long broadsword that would be difficult to maneuver in this tight space. Before the attacker realized his mistake, Jon had plunged the knife into his throat. He must have hit the right spot as blood poured out, soaking Jon’s bed.

Fuck, he thought. Where the in the hells I am I going to sleep now? It disturbed him to think that he was so used to people attempting to kill him that he was more annoyed with the mess than the dead man. When he’d become this hardened man, uncaring to death?

He pushed such thoughts aside, they could wait, and called for servants to bring new furs and guards to carry the body away. As he waited he was surprised to find that his attacker wasn’t the dirty peasant desperate for money he’d first thought. No, this man just naturally had a darker skin complexion.

Jon knew it was possible that his own men had hired someone from the south or east for this task. But he also knew that the easiest explanation was often the correct one. He searched the body and found what he considered proof of the Dragon Queen’s involvement. He took it and strode out of the room as a few horrified servants walked in ready to clean. 

He needed to talk to the woman who wanted to kill him who had an entire army of dark-skinned men at her disposal. He went to the sorcerer's room, kicking him out of his own bed, and activating the seeing stones to speak with Daenerys Targaryen. Her own sorcerer answered and Jon ordered her to fetch her master.

The queen looked as if she had been sleeping; her hair wasn’t in its perfect condition as usual, but slightly mused. Jon’s imagination instantly provided another explanation, one that involved him fisting his own hands in her silver locks as he thrusted away within her, but he pushed the fantasy aside. Now was not the time for that. 

He didn’t bother with pleasantries or disguising the anger in his tone. “Did you try to kill me?”

“What?” Daenerys yawned. Jon wondered if it was fake or if she truly was still sleepy. “This couldn’t wait until morning?”

Jon held up the Valyrian dagger. “None of my lords could afford anything as fine as this.”

Daenerys scowled. “I’m insulted that you think me so foolish that I would give my assassin such an obvious clue.”

“He was a foreigner as well. Do you think any northern lords or ladies would allow someone inside their borders?” 

“Oh, yes, I’m well aware of what your people think of my savages.” Daenerys seemed awake now and was thinking. Jon, calmer now then he was before, waited for her to speak again. It was one of his best moves as a ruler, the silent scowl. It was almost surprising how many people would start babbling just to fill the quiet air, often times saying things they shouldn’t. Jon wasn’t surprised to find the queen was no such fool. 

He finally noticed what the queen was wearing, a thin shift dress with little straps keeping it up. He saw the left strap kept slipping down. Jon wished he hadn’t seen it, now it would prove distracting. 

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to let me help you investigate.”

Jon frowned. “And give you another chance to kill me? Why would I do that?”

“I told you. I didn’t do this, but someone wants you to think I did. Perhaps they’re aiming for war between us.” 

Jon shook his head. “I know it was you.”

“Do you? That snake you call a sister isn’t still envying you your throne? Your lords became trustworthy suddenly?”

Jon swallowed his reply, unable to deny the truth, but unwilling to admit it to an enemy. “We’ve been over this, they don’t have the means…”

“Jon,” the king was surprised by the informal address. “If war between us is the goal and their attempt on your life failed, I will be the next target. I would like to find the culprit before then.”

Jon thought it over. It did make some sense, but he wasn’t willing to let the foreign queen know that. The door opened behind him, and Jon saw his sister enter. He looked back to the queen, “Tensions are too high between our kingdoms right now to allow any of your people within my borders, but I will keep you aware of the situation. Especially as I believe you know more than you are telling.”

Daenerys’ face gave nothing away, but she gave him a slight nod before waving her hand over her stone, which caused her image to disappear. Jon’s eyelids closed and her image was still there, mused hair, slipping strap, thin dress, and gods, if she really wanted to kill him, she didn’t need to send assassins, just keep appearing like that to him.

“She cannot be trusted,” his sister’s harsh voice interrupted his vision. 

He responded just as harshly. “I am well aware of that.” 

Sansa pressed, stepping forward. Jon noticed she was fully dressed; he wondered if his sister ever let someone see her without her armor these days. “Yet you contacted her first, rather than me or any of your advisors.” She narrowed her eyes at him, as if he were under suspicion for arranging his own assassination. 

Jon kept his temper under control, but just barely. He wanted to yell, “I wonder why that is. The last battle we fought, you deliberately kept information back from me. I could have been killed and you still don’t seem to think you did anything wrong.” What he said was, “She was the most obvious suspect and I thought by contacting her now, I might be able to catch her off guard.”

Sansa’s eyes stayed narrowed, but she nodded once. Jon wasn’t sure if that nod was to tell him that she agreed with him or just heard what he’d said. He was certain he didn’t care. He was still exhausted from a long day and his magician’s bed was calling to him. Before he could dismiss his sister she said, “We should send envoys to treat with the queen. Men you trust completely.” Sansa stepped forward. “Men who can repay the queen her favor and get the job done.”

Jon’s eyes narrowed. Sansa, as a high lady and with the help of the worm Littlefinger, would have had the means to purchase a Valyrian dagger. He tried to dismiss such nonsense. His sister would never kill him. But he knew it would be foolish to ignore the suspect who had the most to gain from his death. 

This time Jon nodded, not in agreement, but just to acknowledge he’d heard her. He then said, “I’m tired. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

* * *

Incense filled the air as the queen drank her red wine, her long nails clinking against the glass. Queen Daenerys always kept the air of her court intoxicating so that visitors were never at their best. 

These northern men were no exceptions. She saw their pupils dilate almost immediately upon entering. She was too well schooled to grin at their discomfort, but inwardly she certainly did. The northern king would have done better to send addicts rather than warriors. But the northern kingdom seemed the type of place to ignore such people and pretend they didn’t exist within their borders. 

She glanced to some of her own court members. The drugged air kept them happy, which seemed to be a never-ending job for Daenerys, keeping members of her court happy. She hated most of them, trusted fewer, and was always prepared for the knife in her back.

Daenerys wondered if Jon Snow slept well at night, or if the same monsters in the dark kept him awake as well. 

The queen dismissed such thoughts about the broody king, who seemed to pop up more and more in her mind, and gave her visitors her most seductive smile. She knew what the northern kingdom said about her, that she was a temptress and a witch, and she saw no reason to disabuse them of such notions. Men feared such women. “Welcome, lords of the northern court. My kingdom is honored by your presence.”

The lead man gave her a clumsy bow. Daenerys thought about faking offense at the lack of respect, but dismissed the idea as the northerners wouldn’t respond to such a move and her own court might see weakness in the northerners’ reaction. She took another drink from her goblet.

Most assumed what she drank was wine, but Daenerys rarely allowed herself to be intoxicated. But she enjoyed the prop of the opulent goblet. It matched the image she strove to present, of the once fierce queen who was beginning to grow fat and more concerned with riches than her responsibilities. Almost like those stories of dragons in eastern tales who valued their hordes of treasure above all else.

She dressed the part of her redefined Dragon Queen title as well. Her imported lilac silks were worth more than most families could make in a year. Gold tendrils climbed up her arms from rings on her hands, ending as dragons wrapped around her biceps. And she’d forgone the usual Targaryen crown for something a bit more fitting for her newly forged image. It held rubies, emeralds and even pearls set in black which weaved around her head perfectly.

It all worked together to fit her image, and while she didn’t hate the look it wasn’t really her. But Daenerys hadn’t really been allowed to be herself since she accepted the crown and the throne. She smiled at them with the same smile she always used on weak men, and they reacted as she expected with dumb stares. “Please, let me offer you something to drink.”

The queen held out her hands and servants came forward with wine ready for her guests. Daenerys hated slavery, but it had trained her palace servants well. She still remembered the day when her head chef was obligated to explain to the newly freed slaves what a wage was and how money worked. She had felt so bad for her people, but at the same time, proud that she had given them the chance to learn what true freedom meant. 

None of her northern visitors turned down the wine. She knew they would drink too much. They were used to their northern ale, which was thick and full bodied, not the sweet wine of the south, which would go down too quickly for them. And Daenerys’ servants knew to always keep guests’ cups full. It wouldn’t take long for them to lose track of just how many glasses they have. Daenerys intended to send her visitors to bed so drunk they couldn’t walk properly. 

The lead northern man responded, “Your grace, we came to treat with our southern neighbors as well as find answers. You must know what has happened to our king.”

Daenerys paused, letting the men drink as she took a long swallow from her own goblet. “I know, as he informed me. But I know nothing beyond what your king has told me.”

One of the northern men burst out, “You lie! You tried to kill him!”

His colleague shot him a look, but Daenerys merely raised an eyebrow. “I have nothing to gain from Jon Snow dying. His rule would pass to his sister, correct?”

“Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell, yes,” the northern leader confirmed.

“Your northern king does not want war, same as I, but your Lady Stark does. Why would I exchange a flexible ally to an intractable one?” Daenerys didn’t give the men a chance to respond. “I have little to gain from Jon Snow’s death. It seems to me that Lady Stark has more to gain than myself.” Daenerys looked into her goblet, as though the swirling red liquid might hold the answers to her questions. 

The northerner bristled at the slight accusation. “Lady Stark would never do such a thing. Unlike you southern folk, we northern people have honor.”

Daenerys’ violet eyes looked up, locking with the one addressing her. “Tell me, how does Ramsay Bolton fit into your northern honor?”

The man looked infuriated now. “That bastard was not…”

“He was from a noble house, and his father made him legitimate. And they had...was it five northern houses allied to them, Lord Lannister?”

Tyrion’s goblet was filled with wine, unlike Daenerys, but his tolerance was near godlike. He responded sharply, “More than that, your grace. Nearly all the northern houses at least nominally pledged their support to the Boltons before Jon Snow defeated them at the Battle of Wolfswood.” 

“Fascinating,” Daenerys said, lifting her drink again. “I always find that those who don’t know their own history tend to forget important facts.”

She could see the anger in all the northerner’s eyes, but Daenerys didn’t fear them. She’d defeated so many to gain her throne. Who were these men to challenge a dragon? She set down her goblet and stood. “Now, please help yourself to anything my court can offer you as my guests here.” And with that Daenerys walked out of her own throne room.

She kept up the queenly facade until she reached her study, allowing herself a moment to relax before seeing to the paperwork that came with being a queen. She had never heard anyone talk of it before she took the throne herself. Daenerys had no idea how many things required a royal seal until she became the sole royal.

Granted, Tyrion often signed things in her name, but Daenerys never wanted anyone to take on too much of her work. It might just be paranoia inherited from her father, but Daenerys didn’t like to trust anyone too much.

She sat for hours, reading and signing. It was dull, monotonous work that Daenerys didn’t enjoy, but she preferred boring paperwork to bloody executions. She stayed at it until she began to struggle to keep her eyes open. Then she decided it was time to retire to bed.

Daenerys took the long way back to her room, to check to see if the northern delegation had even managed to make it to their rooms or if they passed out in her throne room. It wasn’t unheard of, she knew. She smiled at the thought of the wizened, tough northmen unable to handle southern drinking games she’d mastered back in her teens. 

Not that she knew for certain, she’d had little interaction with northerners, aside from their leaders. Robb Stark had seemed nice the one time she’d spoken with him, but his brother was better looking, she had to admit. She hadn’t been lying when she’d said that Jon Snow was the northern ruler she’d rather deal with.

But he had plenty of reason to believe her guilty of trying to kill him, even if she was far more certain it was his sister plotting. From personal experience, she understood how hard it was to let go of family, to give up on them. That Jon wasn’t willing to condemn his sister spoke of a good character, if a foolish one. 

She made it back to the throne room and peaked in. As it was darkened, Daenerys could see little, so she walked in to further investigate. She looked around to those sleeping on the floor, most familiar faces, who Tyrion liked to call his drinking buddies. She called them sycophants and moochers, but they were essentially the same, and mostly harmless. 

After a quick look around, she didn’t see the northerners anywhere. Daenerys’ brow knit together in confusion. She was sure they’d been getting drunk when she left them, why had they stopped? Had they made it back to their rooms on their own?

Before she could process any more thoughts, a murderous yell caused her to turn left. One of the northmen was leaping at her, blade in hand. 

His blow didn’t land though, as Grey Worm, her faithful bodyguard and mostly silent shadow, stepped in to stop the attack. All of the sudden Daenerys noticed that she was surrounded by enemies who were all ready to kill her. 

Grey Worm shouted orders in Valyrian, and her guards came rushing into to defend her. It was chaos. Some of the revilers who’d been sleeping on the floor were so far out of it, they didn’t even stir, but many did wake up, only to be cut down in the bloody confusion. Daenerys wanted it all to stop, but she knew she could do nothing until the northerners were taken care of. 

It didn’t take long for the fight to end, even if it felt like an eternity. Grey Worm threw a man at her feet the last northerner alive. Daenerys slipped on her queenly mask and asked him, “Were your orders from your king or did you do this on your own?”

“I don’t answer questions from foreign whores,” the man spat.

Daenerys felt her temper rising and let it seep into her tone, “I am not a woman to cross.”

The man gave no answer but to spit at her feet. Daenerys noticed the blood mixed with the spit. She turned to her men. “Burn him,” she ordered, as she walked away, needing to speak with these men’s king. 

She woke her sorcerer and the seeing stones were activated shortly after. Daenerys barely had the patience to wait for the northern sorcerer to fetch Jon Snow, but she was forced to wait. She could feel her anger growing more fierce with each passing moment. 

When Jon’s handsome face filled the glass-like stone, Daenerys didn’t even get a chance to question him. “I had nothing to do with it,” Jon said immediately.

“Your sister did.” Cold fury pulsed through Daenerys.

“Without my permission.”

“Why is your sister doing anything without the permission of her king?” Daenerys clenched her fist and then unclenched it again.

“Sansa always does what she thinks is right, regardless of my opinion.”

“She disrespects her king. She must be punished. By death if necessary.”

Jon sighed, pushing a hand through his dark curls. “You would have me kill my own sister? She’s the only family I have left, I won’t kill her over a throne.”

Daenerys’ tone softened a fraction. “She would. You must see that.”

A dark look passed over Jon’s handsome features. “You know nothing of my family.”

Her fury returned. “Oh, I know all about families fighting over the throne or do you not remember what happened to my brother? Compassion for family is important and right, but there comes a point when respect matters more.” Daenerys was still haunted by Viserys’ pleading to her. She had loved her brother, but he’d been dumb, reckless and cruel, and in the end, she couldn’t save him. 

She put such regrets out of her mind. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t get on Drogon and reduce Winterfell to its base stones.” 

Jon’s eyes narrowed. “Dragons don’t do so well north.”

“And wolves don’t survive the south.” She looked away, his pretty face was distracting her. But her mask of cool indifference never slipped, she learned that trick too long ago to lose such control. 

It was silent for a moment before Jon suggested, “Perhaps you and I could think of a solution, avoid a war neither of us wants.”

She assumed this was where the brave king would challenge her to single combat, an honorable resolution to conflict in both their kingdoms. She smirked as she answered, “I would ask a champion in single combat, and I don’t think you want to fight a dragon, King Snow.”

His pale skin seemed to pale further and Daenerys had to repress the smile at his discomfort. “No, that’s not what I was suggesting.”

“Then what are you suggesting?” Daenerys could feel the frustration she often felt in dealing with this man, could finally feel the weight of nearly losing her life and the tiredness from a long day. She just wanted to be in bed.

He seemed not to know. “You’re a reasonable queen, Daenerys, for your many faults.” She wanted to correct his use of her name, but she supposed he was a king. “I think we could come to a reasonable solution.”

She thought it over for a moment, and despite knowing that Tyrion and Varys would object she accepted. “Very well, Jon. Where would you like to meet?”

* * *

It wasn’t easy to decide on a meeting spot. Neither ruler wanted to cede the home advantage and neither ruler trusted the other not to try anything. Eventually Dragonstone was settled on, her territory but away from her court. Jon was allowed to stay armed. 

The first time the northern king and southern queen met in person, it was alone, at the queen’s request. Jon thought it was foolish and unnecessarily dangerous for her. After all, he was a seasoned warrior, and she had never even held a weapon as fair as he knew. But it was an advantage for him, so he wasn’t fool enough to tell her any of this. 

Jon stood outside of the queen’s private chambers. Part of him couldn’t help but wonder what her tactic was with such an intimate setting for their first meeting. There were guards posted outside, but with what he assumed was her lead guards currently staring at him with death glares, Jon had to assume that he would be alone with the queen.

He wasn’t sure what he thought of that.

Jon knocked on her door and waited for a servant to admit him. He was then surprised when the queen opened the door herself. Jon took in her appearance quickly. No crown, but she was also not in a robe, but a complicated yet regal red and black dress. It showed more skin then Jon thought appropriate, but he knew southern clothing customs differed greatly from northern ones.

Being at Dragonstone for less then a day, he was already learning why, as he’d had to shed several layers and changed for this meeting so as not to reek of sweat. He stepped in carefully and closed the door for the queen. 

Daenerys glided over to the table set up for them already. Jon thought it looked more prepared for a date than a meeting, but he said nothing. He took his seat before remembering that it was protocol for him to hold Daenerys’ seat out for her, but she’d already sat, so he merely picked up the wine bottle and poured a glass for them both.

Daenerys took up her goblet immediately, studying Jon with a critical eye. He met her eye without flinching, refusing to show any weakness to this woman. She said, “I thought you’d be taller.”

Jon lifted his own goblet, “Did you think about me a lot then?”

Daenerys’ eyes narrowed as Jon took a drink, proud of himself for scoring the first dig. “We are enemies looking to build an alliance. You can’t possibly suggest you’ve never thought about me. In fact, when someone tried to kill you, I was your first thought.”

Jon set down his goblet. Before he could respond there was a knock at the door. The queen granted entrance and a servant entered with two plates filled with freshly cooked, deliciously smelling food. Jon’s mouth watered instinctively. The plates were placed before the rulers and then with a bow the servant left again. Jon looked down at the food, and he recognized it as a northern dish. He looked up to Daenerys, “Who made this?”

“It’s not poisoned if that’s what you mean.”

“No, I mean, is your chef northern?” 

“Not that I’m aware of, but he is capable of making northern dishes.”

Jon didn’t disguise the look of disbelief from his face. Every outsider thought northern dishes simple and easy to replicate, but Jon had always found the imitations lacking. After taking a bite, he decided that while this was certainly an imitation, he actually didn’t mind the changes. “What spice is that?”

“Cumin, a southern delicacy and one of my favorites.”

Jon nodded and for a while both ate silently. Then Daenerys asked, “What have you heard of me?”

“What?” Jon asked, slightly embarrassed when a bit of food flew out of his mouth. He actually did quite like the meal.

Daenerys either didn’t notice or didn’t comment on his faux pas. “What rumors have you heard about me?”

Jon cleared his throat. Of course, he’d heard rumors about the Dragon Queen, but he wasn’t sure which ones were true and which not, and he guessed based on previous interactions that the one about her temper was at least partially true.

Daenerys set down her wine and leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. Jon’s eyes followed her every movement. “What tales do you believe about me? There’s always some truth to rumors. Do you believe I ride a huge black dragon who I feed my enemies to? Do you believe I crucify women and children just to hear them scream? Do you believe I enchant men with my cunt?”

It took a fair amount of willpower for Jon’s eyes not to drift from her face as she mentioned enchanting men with her cunt. Between the effects of the wine and being in her presence, he was having a hard time staying focused on the serious issues between them. He suspected that was on purpose. He hardened against her and said, “I don’t know what to believe about you. I don’t know you.”

Daenerys stood, apparently finished eating. “I agree. Let’s fix that tonight.” She bent over, giving Jon a generous view of her breasts before snapping back up, bottle of wine in hand. She filled both their glasses and then walked over to a chaise on the balcony.

Jon hesitated. He looked down to his empty plate and then over to his full wine glass. Part of him knew the smart move here would be to set it down, bid the queen good night and return to his own chambers. But his brain wasn’t able to build a strong enough argument against his feet, which carried him over to where the queen sat. There was no other furniture, so Jon stayed standing, a respectable distance away from Daenerys and looked out onto the sea as he drank his wine. 

It was quite a beautiful night, Jon thought. The moon glittered off the rippling tides, and the warmer weather allowed Jon to enjoy the lack of sun while not missing its warmth. He allowed his mind to drift.

Daenerys brought him back with sharp words. “What are you planning to do about your sister?”

Jon closed his eyes. He loved Sansa. He really did. But he had no answer for the queen. While his sister had freely admitted to sending men to kill Daenerys, which wasn’t quite enough to condemn her, he wouldn’t even be able to question her about the man who tried to kill him without solid proof. He knew his hold on his throne wasn’t secure enough to throw allies, family especially, in jail. He couldn’t afford to make a wrong move there, as he knew Sansa wouldn’t. 

He answered honestly, “I don’t know.”

Daenerys didn’t press him, which surprised him. He had expected her to keep pushing. It’s what Sansa would have done, but Daenerys instead looked out into the black waves Jon had been admiring before. “When I was a girl,” she said. “I wanted to be a pirate. I wanted to climb on one of the ships at King’s Landing’s harbor and just sail away. Live a life of adventure and fun.”

Jon studied the queen, lounging now, her bare feet sticking out from under her skirts, a ring toe on her second left digit. She looked relaxed as he’d ever seen her. He thought of the dagger at his side. He could kill her now. End the war that way. But he had no desire to do so and it would be dishonorable to kill an unarmed woman. His eyes traveled up her body, her luscious curves, until his eyes met hers. “It would be a shame to cover up such pretty eyes with a patch.”

Daenerys laughed, and Jon thought it the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. “Who knew the northern king was such a charmer?”

Jon looked away, almost embarrassed. “I’m not a charmer, I only speak the truth.” 

Daenerys said nothing, merely twirling the wine in her goblet. “It’s hard sometimes isn’t it? Ruling, deciding what’s best for everyone. No matter what you do, some people won’t be happy, won’t be safe.”

“Aye,” Jon agreed without thinking. “Aye, it’s hard.” His eyes met hers and Jon could have sworn he felt something within his chest click. He took a step towards her, leaving his goblet on the balcony’s stone railing. “My brother never really told me that about ruling. The never-ending pressure. Constantly being given advice, which is always contradictory and how everyone hates you when you ignore what they said.”

Daenerys scooted over, not noticeably, but there was room to sit beside her now. Jon’s eyes hadn’t left hers and he sat next to her. “No, no one one mentions that for fear of looking weak. I never knew how much fear played into being a queen.”

Jon could feel his heart racing within his chest. “No one mentions how some enemies are easy to spot and even easier to deal with and others so bloody tricky.”

Daenerys’ eyes jumped to Jon’s lips. “No one mentions how lonely it is.”

Jon didn’t say another word. Instead he leaned over and kissed Daenerys. He was prepared for her to pull back, slap him across the face and damn his country to war for his impudence. But instead her hand went into his curls as she pulled him closer, her lips opening and her tongue deepening the kiss. 

Jon’s arms wrapped around her, his hands moving to her lower back, cradling her to him, as he sought to reaffirm his dominance in the kiss. It didn’t take much, for as strong as she was, he was stronger. He laid her back fully, her legs coming apart so that he could thrust in between them. He immediately did so, not caring about the clothes separating them. 

Their tongues dueled as their bodies did their best to come together. Jon couldn’t remember ever feeling this good or complete. They kissed for what might have been ages or mere minutes before Daenerys gently pushed him back.

Jon immediately jumped back, ready for her dismissal, but instead Daenerys said nothing. She merely rose and then walked to her large bed, shedding her clothes along the way. Jon looked back out to the sea, taking a deep breath. He knew what the honorable, right thing to do was, but he didn’t think he had the strength to do it. He battled within himself over walking to the bed or the door, until his eyes opened and his feet moved.

Knowing such a battle already lost, Jon followed her and was shocked to find that Daenerys hadn’t waited for him. She rubbed herself in full view of him and Jon’s cock hardened immediately. His pupils blew out as he watched her. She noticed and grinned for him.

Jon barely noticed, his eyes completely focused on her bare cunt and her teasing fingers. He’d always heard that southern women were more brazen and lustful, but this went far beyond anything he might have imagined. Was this typical? Or was this a queen’s prerogative? 

He wasn’t sure he cared, as he mindlessly began to strip out of his clothes, his eyes never leaving her cunt, even as her gasps of pleasure begged him to look up to her face. He crawled to her in the bed, removing her hand and replacing it with his own. When she gasped at his touch, Jon’s focus finally left her pretty lower lips to her pretty face. Daenerys seemed pleased. Some part of Jon felt like he’d lost this battle, but the strategist in him declared that this was a battle worth losing, as long as he stayed focused for the war.

With his fingers still working inside of her, Jon declared, “I won’t be distracted by this, you know. I will still argue for my people. You won’t get the northern kingdom just because you have a pretty cunt. I’m harder to enchant than that.” 

Daenerys laughed. “You are a better man than I gave you credit for, I’ll give you that, Jon Snow.”

He opened his mouth to correct her causal use of his name, but she kissed him instead. Jon let her and his clever fingers brought her to release. He removed them, licking the fluids from them. He noticed her eyes and nostrils flare at his action, but he didn’t let her react before plunging into her.

It felt so right inside of her that Jon forgot all about his previous promises to himself that about begetting children out of wedlock. He came within her with no second thoughts. 

* * *

After months of negotiating the northern and southern kingdoms had come to a compromise to avoid war and end the feuding between them. Jon and Daenerys had spent most of their nights in shared chambers, but neither acted as though their parting was anything more than a parting of newfound allies.

Daenerys couldn’t speak for Jon, but she knew she was lying as she watched him guide out the row boat to take him to the ship home that she didn’t feel the nothing she conveyed in watching him. She felt a great deal of things as she watched her lover leave her. Instinctively her hand came to rest on her belly.

It wasn’t a usual gesture for her, which her too clever advisor picked up on immediately. She didn’t even have time to correct her mistake before he asked, “What were you doing?” 

“My job,” she said. Daenerys tore her eyes away from Jon Snow to face Tyrion, who was sober for once.

“Oh, since when is it the queen’s job to seduce kings?”

Daenerys sighed. She glanced back to the sea. Jon was nearly out of sight now. “We agree that I need an heir, and if I play this right I’ll have one with a claim to both the northern and my throne. We’ll unite the kingdoms without a war.”

Tyrion frowned. “Marriage would do that better. Northerners don’t respect bastards.”

“Yet a bastard sits on the throne. And Jon’s lords wouldn’t respect his southern wife. They’d think I bewitched him with my cunt or some such nonsense.”

“Is that not what you did?”

“He may marry someday, but whatever northern prude he takes will never compare to me. I’m doing what I can.”

Tyrion’s eyebrow lifted, but he said nothing. 

Daenerys watched the boat until the ship sailed away from her. She knew it might make her look weak to watch the ship leave on the beach like some sailor's widow, but she wasn’t sure she would care. Those who would destroy her shouldn’t be present on this island, and if they were, well, she could handle most anything. 

She stood there for too long, until oncoming darkness forced her away. Rather than going back to the keep, she went beneath it. Through its underground passages that anyone not familiar with them would be lost in, until she found her destination. 

She heard the beautiful growl and called out for her son in Valyrian, petting the great black dragon she had birthed what felt like ages ago to subdue the masters with. 

There was always some truth in rumors.


End file.
